Sunday, December 2, 2012

Rewrite Turquoise

No Taj Mahal

I am the kind of woman
some man should build a pool for.  I am
the kind  of woman who appreciates
the reflection of the whole sky.  One 
who delights in clouds daffodil yellow,
clouds the color of sweet plums,
clouds as tall as masted ships
and clouds that hold lightning like
fireflies in a jar.
I will spend my hour of free time
swimming through that sky.
Pool of stars, pool of morning,
pool of heaven.
I am the kind of woman who wants
a small darling house, next to that pool, one
that blocks no view and lets in the light,
every light the sun and moon have to offer.
I am the kind of woman who is
jealous of the cat and dog that sleep 
in the pane of light cast on the floor like a mat.   
In spring I will bring in
yellow forsythia branches
to dress my blue vases,
in the winter I, like a snake charmer,
will draw out the white amaryllis.  I don't ask for much. 
I've learned not to ask for much-- my life
has been a workshop for that.  But.
One turquoise pool, clear as a conscience
catching every point of light, beside a modest home.
As long as I am asking, after years of not,
may it overlook a pasture, a green pasture
full of emerald-bright and lapis blue dragonflies
and may it all
overlook the ocean.  
I am asking.

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